Page 19 of Rescuing Dr. Marian (Made Marian Legacy #1)

TOMMY

Wasn’t sure my dick had ever been this hard. Part of me wondered why the hell now? Why Foster Blake? What had happened after all these years to suddenly attract me to a guy?

Had I taken surreptitious looks at other guys in the gym? Fuck yeah, I had. Didn’t everyone?

Had it made my dick hard and my respiration rate spike? Never. Not like this. Not even close.

I was obsessed with Foster. Not a night—or day for that matter—had gone by in six months that I hadn’t fantasized about being with him like this. Hadn’t wanted his hands on my body and his laser focus on me.

“Fuck.” The word was an embarrassing whimper. As soon as Foster’s hand came down to press against my cock, I arched into it. It was hot but also a lot like relief. Relief to finally be touched where I wanted but also to finally move past this wall between us .

Foster’s voice was rough when he spoke against the hot skin of my cheek. “I trust you to stop me if?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” I said, arching into him again. “If we have to talk about this anymore, I’m going to fucking explode.”

The low rumble of his laugh made me grin against his temple as I inhaled the intoxicating scent of him. My hands moved under his shirt, exploring ridges of hard, broad muscles across his back and shoulders.

“That’s how I felt when you said you were going to your sister’s,” he grumbled. “Thought I might have to tie you to the goddamned bed.”

The words shot liquid fire through my veins. “Shoulda held my ground,” I said on a gasp as his deft fingers moved to the button on my fly and flicked it open. “Sounds intriguing.”

I realized belatedly there was a whole lot more of this man than the chaste skin of his back and quickly moved my hands down to explore further.

“Yeah? You kinky, Dr. Marian? Want me to— oh fuckkk .”

My hand gripped his long shaft as we both groaned.

He was fucking huge.

I almost wanted to laugh, remembering how startled I’d been that first night in Hawaii, to realize that I was noticing Foster not in the clinical way of a doctor assessing a patient but as a seriously aroused man thinking about a guy he wanted to fuck.

It didn’t seem startling at all anymore.

I couldn’t imagine how anyone could see Foster Blake and not want him.

“Not gonna lie,” I admitted in an embarrassingly breathy voice. “This is a little intimidating. ”

“Yeah?” The edge of Foster’s lip curled up. “You in over your head, Doc?”

My knees wobbled as his cock jerked in my hand. I did that. I made him feel good.

It was heady power, the ability to make this big, strong guy lose control a little. I wanted more of it.

We unzipped each other’s pants, shoving at the material with no finesse until we were both bare to our thighs.

Foster grabbed my shaft and held it together with his, pulling up with his firm grip.

The press of our cocks together was something I’d obviously never experienced before, and I felt a moment of regret for all the lost opportunities because this felt fucking amazing.

My heart thundered, and my breathing came fast. “Foster, fuck.”

“You feel so good,” he murmured roughly. “Fuck, I want to suck your cock. Pull your balls into my mouth and hear those noises you make.”

Oh, god. Hearing him talk like that, in the deep voice that had transfixed me since the plane ride to Hawaii, nearly made me come—my release was right there —but I didn’t want this to be over. I reached down to cup his balls, tugging slightly and exploring his taint with my fingers.

He hissed in a breath that was a groan in reverse. “Shit, Tommy.”

I licked along the stubbled bump of his Adam’s apple.

The difference between this and everything I’d ever done with a woman was striking.

This was rough and aggressive, raw and… powerful .

It was strength matched and mirrored. Unfiltered and unpretentious.

I didn’t even know how to describe it, but I knew I wanted— needed —more.

Foster’s guttural voice vibrated through my lips. “Gonna make me come.”

“You’re the one doing it,” I said, suddenly feeling giddy.

“Driving me crazy, swear to fuck.” He tightened his grip and changed the rhythm.

I gasped and leaned into him, grasping the fabric of his shirt to keep from falling.

“Need you to come, sweetheart.”

That was all it took. The tender command spoken in his broken voice.

My release hit hot and hard. The entire thing had lasted seconds, mere moments of frantic desperation, but the orgasm that ripped through me solidified the line between Then and Now.

Between who I was before and who I wanted to be.

The real me. A man not afraid to take what he wanted, to feel pleasure without apology. To let someone take care of me, command me, and show me how good it could be.

Foster grunted before his hot release joined mine on my stomach. The sound of his release in the otherwise quiet room caused Chickie to lift her head up, jingling the tags on her collar.

“‘S’okay, girl,” I said with a laugh, breath heaving and sweat curling along my spine. “Go back to sleep.”

“Fuck,” Foster mumbled. He turned his face and pressed his lips against my hot cheek. “Fuck.”

I turned my face until our lips met. This time, the kiss was slow and indulgent, lingering and sweet. In all the times I’d fantasized about kissing Foster, never had I imagined it would be this good, this… patient and gentle.

Eventually, the cooling jizz on my skin began to itch, and I pulled away. “Any chance you’d let me clean up before letting me get you dirty again? I’m going to need to gather more data before making any scientific conclusions about men versus women and all that.”

I tried for an easy, flirty smile, but inside, I felt like I could barely breathe, waiting for his response. I needed him to say yes, to agree this wasn’t just a onetime thing. He’d made it sound like he was willing to give me eight weeks.

And I was ready to take advantage of every single hour of them if he’d let me.

His eyes pinned me, even though his grin was easy. “Mmm. Maybe we should shower together instead. For the sake of the environment.”

I blew out a breath and grinned back.

Thank fuck.

The first thing I noticed when consciousness crept back in the next morning was the weight of Foster’s arm across my chest, heavy and warm and real in a way that made my heart skip.

The second was the steady rhythm of his breath against my neck—the slow and even respiration of deep sleep—and how each exhale sent goose bumps racing down my spine.

And the third was that I was terrified to move .

We’d fallen asleep tangled together after… Christ . After I’d had my soap-slicked hand wrapped around Foster Blake’s cock, watching his face transform as he came apart under my touch. After he’d whispered my name like a prayer and pulled me against him like he never wanted to let go.

Now, in the pale dawn light filtering through the cabin’s thin curtains, I was cataloging every point of contact between our bodies. His thigh thrown over mine. His fingers still loosely curled around my hip. The warm press of his chest against my shoulder.

Eight— no, seven and a half— weeks. That was all he could give me.

The memory of his hands on my skin, the way he’d responded to my touch, the broken sound he’d made when I’d brought him over the edge—it played on repeat in my mind.

I’d never been with a man before, but touching Foster had felt as natural as breathing.

The weight of him in my palm, the way his breath had hitched when I’d found the rhythm he needed, the vulnerable expression on his face in those final moments.

I was in so much trouble.

“It can’t be more than this,” he’d said, his voice rough with want and something that sounded dangerously close to fear. “When SERA is over, you’re gone.”

I’d agreed because what choice did I have? A summer with Foster was better than a lifetime of wondering what if.

But lying here now, listening to his steady breathing and his thumping heart, I wondered if I was setting myself up for the kind of heartbreak I’d never recover from .

Touching him, being with him like this—it hadn’t felt temporary. It had felt like coming home.

Now, I kept my eyes closed and lay as still as possible, afraid that the slightest movement would shatter whatever spell had settled over us. That Foster would wake up, remember all the reasons he’d said this was a terrible idea, and retreat behind his walls again.

He shifted slightly, a soft sound escaping his throat, and I held my breath. His arm tightened around me for just a moment before he seemed to surface from sleep.

“Mmph,” he mumbled, burrowing his head into his pillow, voice rough with sleep. “Fuck.”

I stayed perfectly still, wondering if I should pretend to be asleep, too. Give him space to process. But then he turned his head slightly, and I felt his lips brush the shell of my ear.

“Damn it,” he muttered, so quietly I almost missed it. “Now you’ve ruined me for morning wood.”

Heat flooded my face. This unguarded honesty, this admission that what we’d done had affected him as much as it had me, was only because he thought I was still sleeping.

“I heard that,” I whispered back, opening my eyes.

Foster went completely still. “Shit.”

“Your ears are turning red,” I added, unable to keep the smile out of my voice.

“Christ, Tommy.” He started to pull away, but I caught his wrist.

“Don’t,” I said softly. “Please. Not yet.”

For a moment, we lay there as the morning light grew stronger around us. Then, Foster’s thumb traced a small circle on my hip bone as he arched his hard cock against my hip. I had to bite back a groan.

“We should probably get up,” he said but made no move to do so.

“Smart thinking.”

“Breakfast starts in an hour.”

“Sure does.”

Foster’s thumb continued its lazy pattern. “People will notice if we’re late.”

“An observant group for sure.”

I felt rather than saw his smile against my shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

“Wasn’t trying to.”